And then there was silence...

         (Originally posted on Jul 15, 2007 - 13:46)

         Have you ever been confronted with your worst nightmare? 
         I am facing mine right now.
         A few months ago I noticed that my left ear was itching more than normal. At first I thought it was just a minor infection and I certainly wasn't going to subject myself to the major pain in the lower half that is to try to find a human doctor in this country, so I just didn't. Even when the slightly annoying itch became a major annoyance I still thought that the quest of trying to find a normal doctor was still not worth. But then, a couple of weeks ago I noticed that slowly I was starting to lose hearing.

         Coincidentally in that same period I was talking online to a lady who happened to had lost her hearing permanently after a misdiagnosed and mistreated ear infection. She had read my last blog entry and she was asking me about Elisabeta and I was trying to explain to her how does her voice sound like. 

         Now this is a daunting task. How to explain the most beautiful voice that I know to a person who can't hear? As I said before, I am not a poet so I simply can't do a good job of it. I tried to imagine how would it be to never be able to hear Elisabeta's voice again. Chills run down my spine and a fear like a cold hand, gripped my heart. It was a sobering experience. 

         In the next day I had an audiogram test made and it showed that both ears were affected, the right one considerably so and the left just below the average. Time to brace myself and try to find a human doctor. 

         The person who made my audiogram recommended a doctor and gave me her mobile number. I called her and the conversation was like this:

Me: Buna ziua, as vrea sa fac o programare...
Dr: Numai saptamana viitoare
(I would like something quicker than next week so I was going to say "am o infectia in ureche si as vrea sa vad un doctor cat mai repede posibl, puteti sa ma recomand un alt doctor, va rog?")
Me: Am o infectia in ure... (she cut me off)
Dr. (raising her voice) AM ZIS NUMAI SAPTAMANA VIITOARE, NU INTELEGI??? Daca vrei saptamana viitoare, bine. Daca nu... (she hanged off the phone).

         Well, now you understand why I emphasized "searching for a HUMAN doctor" above and why I was so reluctant to do it.

         My reluctance, contrary to what some people who claim to be my "friends" believe, is NOT because I am "afraid of doctors". It is just because when it concerns my health, I am allergic to being treated like merchandise by "people" who are supposed to, expected to, sworn to treat patients as humanly as possible.
         So after that call to the doctor I tried another who was recommended by a friend but the doctor was in vacation. 

         The company I work for is a medical company and the clinic MedCenter is part of it. So in the next day I talked to our HR girl to get me an appointment at that clinic. She called and of course, the doctor was in vacation and she would come only in the next week and I didn't want to wait until next week.

         Then the HR girl said there's a clinic right close to my place, down Barbu Vacarescu. Alright. I left work early and went there. Well, it turned out to be a gynecology clinic... Oh well, I dismissed it as just a mild case of mistaken orifice identity and kept searching until it was already the next week so I went to see the MedCenter doctor. 

         I explained the situation to the doctor and she said she was going to have a look at it. First she didn't know how to turn on the overhead spotlight on the examination chair. She had to call the cleaning lady to tell her how to do it. I know she was the cleaning lady because while I was waiting for the doctor I saw her collecting the garbage and sweeping the floor. The lady came in and showed the doctor where the on/off switch is. 

         The doctor examined me and said I have a major fungus infestation and it is clogging the ear canal and she said she'll try to clean it. She took a huge stainless steel syringe and when she tried to operate it, she didn't know how to pull the piston out. And guess what? She called the cleaning lady to tell her how to do it. 

         Huh? A doctor who doesn't know how to operate a syringe? Hmmm... Scary! Anyway she came back with the cleaning lady and a big plastic sheet that looked suspiciously like a shower curtain, undersea fishes and algae pattern and all. She covered my upper body with it and asked the lady to hold one of those kidney shaped trays under my ear and she did some serious washing with oxygenated water and with some powerful water jets from the oversized syringe and after several attempts it worked. I heard a popping sound and then I could hear better. I was so happy that I forgave the doctor's mechanical and electrical inabilities. She made an appointment to clean the other ear the next day.

         Next morning as soon as she arrived she called the cleaning lady to help and started the procedure in my left ear. It was tough. Several attempts after and she said we need an aspirator but the clinic doesn't have any. So she said she will take me to the Coltea hospital. 

        We went there. She parked her car at the back of the hospital and we took a back door. On the way we passed the garbage storage area. Read it: "HOSPITAL GARBAGE", get it? And there were nurses around it smoking and talking. We entered the hospital. It was a nightmare! It was like a horror movie. Something out of SAW or... have anyone seen The Last King of Scotland? Do you remember that seedy hospital in a poor village in Uganda where Mrs. Amin went to do the illegal abortion? Yeah. It reminded me of that hospital. 

        Filthy corridors, stained walls, sick people crowding the corridors, people on stretchers and wheelchairs, people with blood stained bandages, babies crying, children complaining, old people coughing, the smell of medicine, chloroform, alcohol, cheap air deodorants and other unspeakable odors, flies buzzing around, stale hot air, rusted equipment, instruments so old that the chrome is worn off, showing the brass beneath, instruments stored in rusted metal boxes covered in yellowed gauze... 

       I heard it was the first big hospital in Bucharest. And it certainly does look like the Dacians founded and supplied it. 

         The doctor left me in front of a consultation room and asked me to wait in the middle of that crowd.
         I waited and watched.

         In a room behind me, an old communist doctor was examining and yelling at a patient when a very well dressed and obviously rich couple, ignoring the queue outside the room came to the door. As soon as the doctor spotted the couple, his expression changed from anger to the patient to a smile with dollar marks eyes ($)($). He tells the patient to wait outside and he "poftiti, va rog" the couple in and closes the door.

         In the room in front of me, another big old communist doctor is attending another patient. A little girl, probably around 5 or 6. He puts the girl on the chair, orders her to open her mouth, take a look inside. With his hands he jerks the girls face up, looks inside her nose and tells her parents that she needs an operation. Just like that. Lightning 5 seconds examination with no instruments and the diagnosis is "she needs an operation". The parents asked him "but, but doctor, isn't there anything you can do?" And the doctor yells: "I said she needs an operation! If you don't want her to spend the rest of her life with her mouth open like this she has to be operated!!" and before the parents can say anything he looks out the corridor and yells "Next!".

         Remember that I was emphasizing that I was looking for a "human doctor"? Well, these are NOT examples of it.

         My doctor comes back and ushers me to the same room as the big operation-thirsty, quick-with-the-knife doctor.
          She puts me seated on a chair, grabs a yellowed, filthy-looking rubber hose hanging at the wall, asks me to hold it while she picks a nozzle from a rusted tray covered with yellowed gauze. She connects the nozzle to the hose and asks the nurse to turn it on. After a few false starts, the motor started chugging and coughing and finally turning. making a noisy racket. She then inserts the nozzle in my ear, hitting the clog and my eardrum hard. I squirm and tried to pull my head away. She tells me "Don't worry! it won't hurt!" Huh?? Hellooo?? Does she think that if she says that it doesn't hurt I will believe it and pretend that it doesn't hurt like hell as it did??? Or did she believe that I almost jumped 3 meters to the right out of sheer joy of having my ear painfully poked?

         She tried a few more times, every time poking my eardrum hard, making me jump in pain and in the end making my hearing even worse. She got angry (probably because I didn't believe her suggestion that the pain she was causing me was actually pleasant) and gave up. I told her that now I hear even less and she said of course, you keep moving while I'm trying to help you!

         Huh? So should I just let her pound my eardrum and pretend that the pain is not there?? She said she will prescribe me a solution for me to put in my ear that will help dissolve the clog and she will only treat me again after I do that. She had to fight with the other big communist doctor for the pen to write the prescription and told me to come back the next day. Yeah right. I will NEVER EVER go back to that place EVER DAMN AGAIN.

         So I was back to zero again. Searching for a human doctor. The HR girl of my company tried to convince me that THAT hospital is the best ENT hospital in the country and I should go again. Yeah right. Maybe it was the best by the time the Dacians were conquered by the Romans. Or maybe it is, if you have a wallet big enough to make the doctors smile with dollar marks on their eyes.

       Other friends suggested me to go to other hospitals. But I am decided. I will NOT walk into any horror movie ever again. I want a human doctor who works in a private, 21st century type clinic. 

        And surprisingly, I was recommended a doctor who has a private clinic very close to my place, by none less than Elisabeta "La Contessa" Marin herself. The doctor use to treat opera singers when they have vocal chords problems.

 

         So this is my worst nightmare. Losing my hearing. Not being able to listen to Elisabeta's voice or Bach's music anymore.
I got myself an appointment for tomorrow and I really hope everything will go well and I will have my hearing back soon enough.

P.S. - I haven't posted an update on this case in the period when my blog was originally published so, in case anyone is wondering:

        I went to see the doctor recommended by Elisabeta and she found out that I didn't have any fungus infection. What I had was even worse: I had a bad Staphylococcus Aureus infection.
         Fortunately, after a long treatment including some potent antibiotics I got cured and my hearing restored to normal.

Between infinity and eternity

         (Originally posted on Jun 18, 2007 - 23:15)

         My grandfather lived in a farm several kilometers away from the city where I lived in Brazil.
In the farm's yard there was a big granite rock that used to be warm in the evening after basking in the sun the whole day.

         In clear nights I used to lay down at the top of the rock, looking up at the sky, admiring the stars.
         As the place was far away from the city the skies were dark and pinpricked with hundreds of thousands of stars and when I laid there and looked up, I would have nothing but darkness and stars in my field of view and then the illusion of being afloat in deep space was so real that I had to put my hands on the warm rock to reassure myself that I was still on Earth. The sensation was so exhilarating that after reassuring myself that I wouldn't fall into space I would lay motionless and concentrate on the stars just to feel it again.

         I am telling you this story because this is the closest analogy that I could find to another sensation that I want to talk about.
         The sensation that I feel when I hear a certain voice.

         I have never really liked soprano voices. I mean, I don't dislike them but I didn't like as much as I like baritone voices. I have this kind of "allergy" for high pitch sounds. But of course I've had my share of favorite soprano singers and the top names were Barbara Bonney, Kiri Te Kanawa and Emma Kirkby.
        When I was in Japan I've seen them live in concert, as well as Mirella Freni, Della Jones, Angela Gheorghiu and a few others.
         But even though they are all considered the best of the best, none moves me like this one single voice does.

         I'm talking, of course, of Elisabeta Marin.

         After the first time I've seen her on the stage of the National Opera in the evening of April, 29th I've been following her carreer and attending her every concert and I just can't get enough.
       I am surprised.
        Never in my life I've felt anything like what I feel when I hear her singing. The closest that I can get of an explanation is what I wrote in the beginning. It's not exactly like that but it's close and stronger.

         Whenever I hear her singing I feel my heart beating faster and faster sometimes so fast that I feel my hands go numb. My breathing also accelerates. The hair on my arms stand up and I feel a tingling sensation in my spine.

         And then what comes next is something that I can't explain properly because I am not a poet.
         It's a feeling like floating like a mote of dust in the morning sky, suspended somewhere between infinity and eternity, watching galaxies and suns and planets, life and consciousness evolving and perishing, atoms as massive as suns and universes smaller than atoms and all the wonders of the universe swirl in front of my eyes, drawn by the music of cosmic harmonies at the speed of light, but with a reassuring warm rock at my back.
         And in the exact moment that the aria ends I am hurtled back to Earth. Back among mortals again with an empty, longing feeling like thirst. Thirst to drink more from the fountain of her voice.

         And when she sings arias like Un Bel Di Vedremo or Vissi D'arte, it's like she pours pure, distilled longing and sadness over the foundations of the music and every time I drink from them I can't avoid gathering tears in my eyes. Running tears. Er... pouring, actually. Ok, I admit, I cry. I cry for I feel the sincere longing and sadness in her voice. I cry for I know the longing and the sadness that reside in the uncharted reaches of her pure heart. I cry for I know where this longing and sadness come from

e diedi il canto
agli astri, al ciel, che ne ridean più belli.
Nell'ora del dolore,
perché, perché Signore,
perché me ne rimuneri così?

         Like Tosca, she offered her singing to the starry heavens so that they might smile more brightly and I have asked myself why, O Lord, have you repaid her this way? For I see the brilliance of her talent wasted between the deaf walls of the national opera. I refer of course, not at the stage, for on stage she receives the recognition that she deserves from the public that loves her. I refer to the direction of the national opera, and I still need to summon titanic efforts to avoid any references to southern italian families.

         But it seems that fortune is finally turning her a smiling face for last week there was a contest in Galati: Concurs International de Canto “Dunarea Albastra” and I am very proud to announce that Miss Elisabeta Marin is the winner of the FIRST PRIZE and all the respect, privileges and admiration that come with it! It was the first edition of this contest and she won it! 
       This, ladies and gentlemen, is history in the making!
         And I am sure this is the first of the opportunities that will open to her because she deserves them.

  

 The winners of the International contest "Blue Danube": Elisabeta Marin, Adrian Marcan and Cristina Ioana Damian

         Dear Elisabeta,

         Happy birthday and congratulations for the result of the contest. I am sure this is probably one of the best birthday presents you could wish.
And well deserved it is for I know how hard you worked for it and I am very proud of you.

         I thank you for the joy that your singing and your friendship bring me.
You are the brightest star in our musical firmament and now that the doors for your bright future are open it's up to you to walk through them.

A star is born

         (Originally posted on April 30, 2007 - 12:59)

         On the stage of the National Opera tonight (April, 29th) was Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro, my favorite opera.
         I have seen two performances of this opera last year at the ONB and they were both terrible. The singers were making very silly mistakes like stepping out of tempo and missing the entrances of the songs. They recovered in the fourth act but then it was way too late. 

         Because of those bad performances I was apprehensive about tonight, even though the singers (with the exception of Vicetiu Taranu and Paul Basacopol) were different. But I had a very good reason to see it tonight for on the role of the Countess was a friend of mine. I haven't had the opportunity to see her singing before because she had just debuted.

         So I went with no big expectation for the production but to see my friend sing. I was anxious because the Countess doesn't sing until the second act. But in this production of the National Opera, she makes a kind of silent cameo appearance in the first act. In the moment that she appeared at the door of the set she struck me with her presence, her elegant and imponent figure.

         The second act starts with Porgi Amor, one of the most beautiful Mozart arias. On this production, in a silly attempt of modernism, the countess is portrayed as a maniac-depressive, Prozac addicted woman. But even this and the fact that she had to sing laying down on a couch detracted from the sheer beauty of her interpretation. Her voice is steady and strong but also soft and poetically lyrical, all in the right places. Her pronunciation is clear and intelligible and has no accents. Her theatrical performance is natural and captivating.

         In the trio "Susanna, or via, sortite" even though she was flanked by two more experienced singers, her voice soared above them, so high that it hit me up there in the balcony, making my chest resonate. Acoustically and emotionally.

         And then there was the two connected pieces E Susanna Non Vien/Dove Sono. In the first part, the anxiousness of the Countess wondering about the success of their plans against the unfaithful and jealous Count is evident in her facial expression and in how well she builds up the tension to an unbearable level... Until she releases it in the second part, so sweet, so warmly shared in a delicate duet with the clarinet.

         Then the astounding fourth act and the climax of the whole opera: "Contessa, perdono". The Countess hears her husband offering her tender words for the first time in years just because he thinks she's someone else. And in a voice of pure forgiveness that wraps the theater in a warm blanket, she sings "Più docile io sono, e dico di sì." conferring on the Count and on everybody else in there, perfect absolution. That was the voice of Mozart on Earth, singing through this young lady. 

          The entire cast and the whole performance was perfect tonight but she 
received the most thunderous applause I've ever seen in the National Opera.

 
         Tonight I went to see a friend sing. But instead I saw something else.
        Tonight I witnessed the birth of a star.
And this star is called Elisabeta Marin.

         Make sure you remember this name because you will hear it many times, associated with the name of great composers, great operas and great conductors in the future. And I do hope this future is near. And I really hope that the direction (I'm trying to avoid the use of any reference related to southern Italian families here) of the National Opera doesn't spoil her career, because I heard that they are reluctant to cast Elisabeta under the excuse that she is "too young".

         Helloooo? What's going on here? What is more important to the arts? Talent or age? I take talent anytime. And she has talent way beyond her years. How can you refuse to cast Elisabeta under such a lame excuse as age and yet you cast untalented uninspired insipid veterans that I refuse to name here but I'll give you a hint: His name starts with "Ga" and ends with "briel Nastase". 

         And there are obvious cases where a young age is an advantage: I am tired of seeing sopranos in their late 40s portraying Madama Butterfly. She's supposed to be in "L'età dei giuochii e dei confetti"!!
Did you get my hint? No? Then let me make it clear: I want Elisabeta Marin singing Madama Butterfly in the next season!! And I am sure I am not the only one!! Get it?

         You claim that she's too young and has no experience. How is she going to get experience if you don't give her a chance?
Didn't you hear the glorious applause that she got tonight? Doesn't that mean anything to you? It means that we the public love her and we want more!

         You hold the future of this young lady in your hands. It's a valuable future. 

        Don't destroy it. 
        Encourage it!

        If your aim is to make the National Opera more popular and frequented then please, give this young lady a chance, let her shine and I promise you that she will not disappoint you. She will make us all proud. The National Opera will have the public that it needs and we, the public will have the star that we love. It's a win/win scenario. No one looses, everybody wins.

       Dear Elisabeta, 




        You are the brightest star in the Romanian musical firmament.
         Thank you for this wonderful evening. You made me proud of being your friend and you made everybody else happy just by being there.
        I can't wait to see you on stage again. And I'll go anywhere you sing. I mean... When you start singing at La Scala and the Metropolitan it will be difficult for me, but I’ll do my best.
     And I am very happy that we've found each other again.

Give me another dose

(Originally posted on Mar 20, 2007 22:33)   

Sometimes I wonder if music shouldn't be treated as a controlled substance or even illegal. No, seriously. Have you never had your mood altered by music? Have you never felt some strong emotions when listening to a certain music? Haven't you never felt depressed by listening to Pink Floyd? Have you never wept listening to Barber's Adagio? Have you never felt a rush while driving under the influence of Deep Purple's Highway Star? Never felt nausea listening to manele? Never felt the hair on your arms stand up and your spine tingle when listening to Beethoven's 9th? Never felt nostagia listening to Dvorak's 9th?

         Music is powerful stuff. Ask Charles Manson and his "family" who claimed that they committed several murders under the influence of Beatles' Helter Skelter.
Ok, that's not a nice example because they were obviously all mental institute material but ask anyone who had felt those sensations that I described above. And if you've never felt them, then I suggest you get yourself checked for catatonia or catalepsy. 

         When I was in high school (yeah, yet another story that starts with “When I was young…” symptoms of that malady called Age) I had one of those quasi-religious, life-changing, mind-altering experiences with this drug called music.

          In that period I was deep in to rock music but by chance I stumbled upon this record (yes one of those big black records, not the small shiny silver ones) called Switched on Bach, by Wendy Carlos (well, in that time she used to be Walter Carlos) in a record shop. 

         I thought the cover was amusing and it seemed interesting to me because I have this fascination for electronic synthesizers since I was 10. So I bought the record, took it home and started listening. When I listened to the Brandenburg Concert nr.3 I felt that rush that we usually relate to drugs. Now that was something new to me and it hit me on the face like a ton of gold bricks wrapped on lemon slices and without a license plate. It was like “Whoa! Oh your god!! What was that?? Where have it been all my life? Why haven’t I never heard this before?? Why am I listening to rock and not this??” And the next thought was “I need mooooore!!!” Ha! Signals of drug addiction on the first try! Now THAT is potent stuff!

         The next day I went running to the record shop to look for more Bach and then I’ve found the album that really changed my life: The complete Brandenburg concerts by the Collegium Aureum, on period instruments!! 

I could barely wait to get home to listen to it. And if the synthesizer version gave me a rush, this one shot me way past the speed of light and made me time-travel to the 17th century!! And the big advantage of this type of drug is that there’s no time lag from the moment the drug enters your system until it start making effect on your brain. It’s almost instantaneous! Well, the speed of sound is negligible in this case. And ooohhhh what an effect!! I spent the whole afternoon and evening listening to those concerts non-stop. And my thought was “too bad I have to listen to them one by one… I wish I could inject them all at once!” Yep. That was addiction, alright. Since then I always thought that if one day I get hold of a time machine, this is the moment that I want to relive again. The moment I was illuminated by Bach. How I wish to feel again that first big rush when the Brandenburg 3 invaded my brain and etched it’s undeletable marks on my cortex!!

         And without knowing I became not only addicted, but also a purist! For in the next day I asked a friend of mine who liked classic music to let me borrow his recording of the Brandenburgs for comparison. And he his version was by Karajan with the Berlin Phillharmonic. Oh… What a difference it was!! That huuuuge orchestra lumbering like a geriatric dinosaur! Compared to my version with the small orchestra and period instruments, so vibrant, so dynamic, this one was horrible!! From that moment on I became a true purist and only accepted historically informed performances on period instruments. Of course, in that period, in the early 80s this is not what they were called. They were just labeled “authentic performances” but alas, the politically correctness of 90s took over and now they are called “Historically Informed Performances” or HIP. But I digress…

         So I was bitten by the Bach bug. And I couldn’t get enough. In the next day I was back to the record shop, digging for more HIP Bach. And I found another Collegium Aureum record with the concert for Oboe and Violin BWV 1060. Whooosh! Another big dose of my favorite drug!!
And the next one was the Goldberg Variations with Gustav Leonhardt on the harpsichord. 

          Strangely enough, the Goldberg Variations rush was delayed for several years. Not that Leonhardt’s interpretation wasn’t good, but somehow it didn’t hit me on the face like the concerts. 

          It was only a few years ago that it finally made it’s effect. And even more strange is the recording that caused the effect: Glenn Gould on the piano. 

         When I started my Bachmania I was reading everything that I could find about Bach and his works and I was always searching for the best possible interpretations. And I heard a lot about Glenn Gould. First of all I was apprehensive about him because the last thing you could call him was “authentic” or HIP. On the contrary. All the Bach purists always criticized him for the liberties he took in his interpretations. But I didn’t want to be intolerant, especially without even giving the guy a decent try. So I bought a record with some piano concertos and some solo piano works. And I had to agree with his critics about the liberties taken. But what was worse to me was his idiosyncrasies. He SINGS while he play the piano!! Oh your god!! I couldn’t believe!! And he doesn’t sing the melody that he’s playing!! He sings something completely different. And quite off key!! So I practically banned Gould from my collection. Until recently, when I started relaxing my rule about non-HIP recordings and started searching for a good piano version of the Goldbergs. And everywhere I read about it the verdict was almost unanimous… Gould. So I decided to give the guy a second chance. I admit that it took some time for me to cast away my prejudice about his tempos and lack of baroque ornaments and his annoying singing. And then… it finally clicked!! But the Goldberg/Gould is not a stimulant to me. It's more like a calmant. Whenever I am nervous or anxious it helps me feel better. I also like to listen to it while I'm cooking. Unless I'm cooking pasta. Then it has to be Pavarotti.
And when I am really depressed I usually make an intensive treatment with Bach. In the veins, if necessary. Never had an overdose, so far.

         So, Bach is my favorite drug.
         As I said, I am surprised that music is not a controlled substance. But I am happy it isn't and I hope it won't be. 

         And today, March, 21st is a special day: Bach makes 322 years.
         Happy Birthday, Johann!!
         And give me another dose. 

The tune will come to you at last...

          (Originally posted on Mar 5, 2007 3:03) 

         I'm just coming from the karaoke bar.
         Apparently the ban on Stairway to Heaven was lifted. 

         I don't know what happened. Did the "lady we all know" listen to the "voices of those who stand looking"? Who knows...
         It makes me wonder... 

         But I didn't dare ask. Lest her remember the ban and reinstate it.
         So in the end a new day dawned for those who stood long and the forests echoed with laughter.
         Does anybody remember laughter?

         Do you think she'll let me sing Black Dog next time? :-) 


 

Ooooh... It makes me wonder...

(Originally posted on Feb 27, 2007 1:19)

"There's a sign on the wall
but she wants to be sure
cause you know sometimes words have two meanings"



Anyone remember that scene on Wayne's World in which Wayne goes to the guitar shop to check the guitar of his dreams and is not allowed to play Stairway to Heaven?

Recent events reminded me of this scene.

A few days ago I was at a karaoke bar and people there requested me to sing Stairway to Heaven. But the DJ didn't allow me to sing it because "it is too long and the customers will be bored"!!

I mean... Customers requested it! It's "the voice of those who stand looking"! Hellooo? "Dear lady can you hear the wind blow"?

I lived in another country where people believe the customer is always right. But in this country the customer is always last. I know... People usually tell me "daca nu iti convine, pleci!!" And I must say that sometimes "there's a feeling I get when I look to the west, and my spirit is crying for leaving..."

But my good friends tell me that "If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow don’t be alarmed now, Its just a spring clean for the may queen."

They will convince the "lady we all know" "and it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune then the piper will lead us to reason. And a new day will dawn for those who stand long and the forests will echo with laughter."

So, "if you listen very hard the tune will come to you at last".

Wish You Were Here...

(Originally posted on Feb 22, 2007 15:34)

"So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,

blue skies from pain.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,

Running over the same old ground.

What have we found? The same old fears.

Wish you were here."



I used to sing this song a long time ago, when I was 19 and I played in a garage band.

In that time it used to be just a pretty song to me.

Now that I got to this age, far from home and many of my friends got into the habit of being dead or somehow gone, I can feel the pain in it.
And it hurts.